


it's written in your bones (you're meant for something more)

by bananannabeth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, In which Stiles and Lydia write their feelings into songs, So Much Sexual Tension, rather than just talking like normal people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:09:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananannabeth/pseuds/bananannabeth
Summary: The Pack is on the verge of greatness, one well-timed single away from the recognition they deserve. Their last album has them poised as 'The Next Big Thing', but the one they're working on now, that's the one that's going to propel them to international super stardom.And Stiles wants Lydia Martin, bonafide pop star, to feature on it.





	it's written in your bones (you're meant for something more)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writergirl8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8/gifts), [sunshineinthestorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineinthestorm/gifts).



 

 

She presses her red lips against the microphone and lets out a long, low wail that pierces straight through his heart. It bypasses all logical reasoning, all of Scott’s insistences that they need to put more thought into this album than the last because this is it, this is the one where they’re gonna make it big, and it settles right there behind his ribcage and refuses to budge. He can feel himself buzzing with the _rightness_ of it all.

 

“She’s the one,” Stiles declares, unable to tear his eyes away from the stage and the girl who is commanding it like she was born to be there. “She’s your featured artist.”

 

Scott lowers his beer and blinks from the girl on the stage to Stiles and back again. He says something that Stiles doesn’t catch and then, after an exasperated hand movement, he says loudly, “Her?”

 

Stiles leans over so their heads are closer together and exclaims, “Yes, her! Do you not have ears? Can you not hear that fucking angelic voice - no, it’s not angelic, it’s like… it’s like a siren song, listen to that emotion, Jesus, she sounds like she’s about to tear a vocal chord she’s putting so much into it!”

 

If he could turn his head to check, he’s pretty sure he’d find Scott smirking. “You want her for her voice, right? Because she’s talented - not because you’ve had a crush on her since her first single?”

 

“I’ve had a crush on her since she was on YouTube, Scott, you know this.”

 

“How could I forget,” he deadpans.

 

The song ends, and Stiles’s ears are ringing. His foot is still tapping in time to the rhythm on the bottom of the stool he’s sitting on, at the back of this very exclusive ‘intimate’ VIP concert that he very legally managed to procure tickets for. 

 

Scott is studying him closely, waiting for him to crack. “Do you think she’s right for us? We’ve got sort of… a different sound.” 

 

Stiles shrugs restlessly. “It’ll work. I can hear it, I swear. She’s the one.”

 

Across the room, Lydia Martin takes a bow, grinning graciously at the adoring fans crowded at the front of the stage and screaming her name. Every fibre of Stiles’s being itches to be up there, reaching across the barricade for her hand, begging for just a momentary acknowledgement from her. 

 

He kicks the stool a little harder and drums his fingers against his glass, tearing his eyes away as she turns with a flourish and disappears backstage.

 

Scott downs the rest of his beer in one gulp. “Okay. So how do we ask her?”

 

“We get our people to talk to her people. Isn’t that how things work in this business?”

 

“Hearing you refer to it as ‘this business’ makes it sound way more official than it is.”

 

“We have an album! We are true artists, we are in this business,” Stiles says, offended.

 

Scott ignores him. “I don’t think Derek’s going to like it.”

 

“Derek doesn’t like anything.” Stiles pouts. 

 

Scott laughs, and Stiles starts to laugh, too, but then Lydia appears from a backstage door, and she’s heading straight for them, and Stiles’s entire world narrows to the beat of her heels on the concrete floor.

 

Her strawberry blonde curls are bouncing with every step, and her green eyes are striking, lined in black and looking sharp enough to cut Stiles into ribbons, if only they’d land on him -

 

He raises a hand in a cheery wave, which is possibly the lamest thing he’s ever done. And Stiles has done plenty of lame things before. “Hey, Lydia! You look -” 

 

She brushes straight past him, unflinching, and continues on to the bar.

 

“- Like you’re gonna ignore me.” Stiles deflates.

 

God, that was so bad he hopes that her level of indifference was so great she didn’t actually register his presence at all. Better to be unnoticed than to be remembered as the guy who waved at Lydia Martin. 

 

Seriously, what was he thinking? Maybe he isn’t prepared to collaborate with her; If he’s embarrassing himself like this now just imagine what damage he can do if they ever actually get to the stage where they have to have a conversation.

 

His horror must be playing out across his face, because Scott laughs and tries very poorly to hide it, like any decent best friend. “Yeah, getting Derek to talk to her manager might be more effective than that.” 

 


End file.
